


Masks

by Echo404



Category: Original Work
Genre: I didint think at all when writing this, Poems, good luck, idk what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:15:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28778901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echo404/pseuds/Echo404
Summary: might add more chapters later, if I make more. idk. its gonna be only one for now ig.





	Masks

There once was a lonely girl.

She was perfectly normal. No different than you and me.

But like most people, she was a collector.

But she didn’t scour the shelves of stores for buttons, she didn’t walk the streets for loose coins.

No.

She collected masks.

She had many,

Big ones filled with bright and loud colors.

Small ones with quiet shades.

Ones of deep red with scary faces.

And ones of just pure white, nothing but a blank slate for people to see how they wish.

She liked to wear them for people, the big bright ones made her friends giggle. The mask One of white made her parents smile, everything neat and orderly in their eyes.

But she would save the soft mask for herself when she was alone and in the quiet.

Sometimes she liked to were different masks in front of different people.

She thought her friends would like to see the mask of white, or even her little mask she kept hidden away.

But the white mask made them worry, she was too blank, too quiet. And the soft smile of her little shaded mask seemed like a deep frown to them, making them think she was sad.

They made them worry so much. So many questions, where were there bright colors? Did she lose them? 

It turned into too much, she pulled out her mask of red. Hoping to scare them away.

But they only snarled at her, snapping unhappily as they wondered where her bright colors had gone.

She sometimes put on her colorful mask for her parents. Thinking the loud aura would make her mom laugh. But they had told her to paint over the colors, tone them down.

At one point, her mother wailed for her first mask, yelling for her to bring back the bight baby blue, full of laughter and cheer.

But she didn’t see. That mask had been gone for years. Whittled down by age and the cold storms of the world until the girl had to change it. Turing molted blue into a soft purple-red.

But her mother couldn’t see it. She kept waiting for her to put on the mask she once knew.

So, she silently placed her white mask back onto her face. Letting her parents see their perfect white slate.

they didn’t notice that under her little white face, her red mask churned and swelled. Mixing with one of blue rainwater.

She continued to put on her Bright mask for her friends. They were happy to see their colors return!

But they didn’t notice how strained they looked, one naturally bright light turned into a strange Sicily highlighter sheen.

Soon, it became harder and harder to breathe under all the fabric and wood. The masks piling up and up and up.

But they were too heavy for her to pry off her skin.

But as they continued to layer up. It became easy to switch them. Like a remote control for the TV, changing the channels. 

She would sometimes tweak the design, mess with the patterns to make people smile. 

And to hide the ugly masks peaking through.

One day, she decided to build a new mask. One only for her self. A secret only to be seen by other mask collectors like her.

She pulled up her sleeves and her work.

It was beautiful, bright reds, oranges, and deep blacks ran up its surface like a raging fire.

Bold yet graceful, wild, and untamed. Crazy but orderly.

It made her feel warm.

So when she was finished, she opened her computer and set the mask onto her face.

It felt amazing!

With every keystroke, the wood morphed into whatever she wished. Changing like the summer tides.

It started to become her everything. She would put on her collection during the day, and at night she would put on the one of fire and breath. 

But it was too good to be true.

Nothing ever changes

The other mask wares started to become worried, their masks of gold, purple, and blue turning into sugar-sweet frowns. The said words meant to help, but it made her want to gag. The sugar turning into tar in her mouth.

They told her to turn down her flames, to dampen her fires, to become a docile candle, like the rest of them.

It was becoming hard to breathe again.

She could feel the black pain start to peel away from her wood. Just like the bright colors of her loudest mask. Now sitting deep in her closet.

She could feel blue, red, and green churn beneath the surface. 

She slammed her computer closed and ran into her bathroom.  **_I have to take them off._ ** She thought  **_I have to see myself. One moment, one small moment, please!_ ** **_  
_ ** The damp air in her masks was suffocating, she longed for the cool air of the sky. 

She tore at the wood, ripped her hair, clawed at her skin, and pulled at the fabric.

Until for the first time in years, cool oxygen touched her skin.

But when she looked into the mirror, she felt no joy, no sorrow, no anger.

Because she had no idea who the woman looking back at her was.


End file.
